


Crash Into You: A Destiel Star Wars Story

by RosaleenBan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Dean/Cas Mini-Bang Challenge 2018, Gray Jedi, Happy Ending, Jedi!Castiel, M/M, Padawan!Sam, Romance, Smuggler!Dean, Smuggler!Sam, Strangers to Lovers, rebellion era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaleenBan/pseuds/RosaleenBan
Summary: Fifteen years after the fall of the Republic, Dean Winchester is on the run from Imperial Inquisitors, who are hunting his brother Sam for his uncanny Force sensitivity. The brothers have jumped across the galaxy in a damaged ship, and find themselves crashing into the planet they had thought might shelter them. A Jedi Knight who has been hiding on the planet, Castiel, saves their ship and their lives just before they crash.This is a pure AU; no crossover or canon compliance with Star Wars or Star Wars Legends beyond general world-building.





	Crash Into You: A Destiel Star Wars Story

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my WONDERFUL artist, TheDogSled! You can find the art masterpost for this fic here:  
> https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/post/175515324148/and-heres-the-art-i-picked-this-one-up-as-a

 

 

 

_Year 4 BBY, Wild Space, Sav Moon_

 

“Sammy, you alright?” Dean called, reaching across the cockpit to the switches that controlled the _damn_ sub-light engine stabilizers, madness in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he heard his younger brother over the com system. “Just a little shaken.”

“Then why the hell aren’t these stabilizers online?” Dean asked as the _Impala_ shuddered again, the ship fighting violently as it entered the atmosphere below them. His baby didn’t look good – she had taken too many hits from the Inquisitors’ ships before they entered hyperdrive, and even with his brother’s help, Dean hadn’t been able to fix all the damage before they had to drop out at one of the last habitable systems in the astrogation files.

“I’m trying!” Sam shot back. “Just give me a –”

His voice broke off as the ship shuddered again, this time falling completely into the pull of the planet’s gravity.

Dean’s fingers flew across the console, coaxing every last bit of energy into the ship’s already failing shields. “Just a little bit more, baby,” he cajoled as the ship descended, the green expanse of the planet Janon Minor’s largest continent quickly filling the transparisteel viewport. “Just give me a little bit more, and I promise I’ll fix you all up once we’re planetside.”

“It’s not working,” Sam called over the com again.

“It’s gonna work,” Dean told him, trying to keep his voice even. Trying, as he always was, to protect his little brother even as the planet rushed closer in his view. He could see mountain ranges clearly now, and the widest of the rivers that flowed between them. In a minute or two, he’d be able to make out the smaller streams flowing down, then the distinct shapes of trees. Ninety seconds, tops, and it wouldn’t matter if Sam got the engines online; there would be no stopping their descent in time. “We just need enough power to stabilizer her. Just enough to land.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Sam told him, a distinct whine in his voice.

“It’s ok, Sammy, I know,” Dean said, his hands going limp on the _Impala’s_ console. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something – anything – that would save them.

A jolt of gravity suddenly forced him back into his chair. His stomach churned, and he thought he was going to be sick. “What the – Sam, was that you?” he asked opening his eyes.

“Not me,” Sam said, voice just as confused as Dean’s.

 Dean leaned forward in his seat, not believing what he was seeing. They were close enough now that he could see the individual trees – could see wildlife running from the ship’s wake, even. But they hadn’t crashed. Instead, they were floating leisurely down toward a large field on the planet below.

“We’re landing,” Dean said tartly. “How is that not you?”

“It’s not me!” Sam insisted.

“Imperials,” Dean hazarded. “Must be a tractor beam or something.”

“It’s not a tractor beam,” Sam told him, his voice suddenly soft and distracted in a way that Dean had learned to hate. A way that meant he was using the Force.

“Whatever it is, get up here. We’re not facing them alone,” Dean told him before his kid brother could say anything more.

While Sam extracted himself from the YT-1000’s engine room, Dean stood up and opened the hidden compartment he and John Winchester had installed in the cockpit floor – one of many in the _Impala_ \- and extracted a couple of highly powerful blasters of questionable legal status. He shoved one into Sam’s arms as soon as the kid entered the cockpit.

He really _was_ still a kid; he should be graduating from the academy this year, not running from Imperials and learning to make shady deals with crime lords. Dean allowed himself a moment to look over Sammy – to check for injuries, if asked, but really because he was scared this might be the last time he saw his brother. Not for the first time, either. Not for the first time _this week_.

“We gonna need these?” Dean asked, hoping those uncanny abilities of his brothers would give them something useful for a change, instead of just reasons to run.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, practiced fingers automatically checking over the weapon. “I don’t think so.”

Dean nodded, knowing that was all he was likely to get. “We gonna meet them when we land, or should we be planning an ambush if they come aboard?” he asked.

Sam frowned, concentrating. “I don’t know. Whoever it is, they know we’re on board, though. Maybe not who we are, but that we’re here.”

“Might as well get it over with, then,” Dean said with a sigh.

He lead Sam down the central hall of the old ship, glancing around with pride at the lovingly maintained panels, almost unchanged in appearance since their father had first bought the ship new, back before the brothers were born. All the modifications had been to the engine and weapons functions, as well as the additions of illicit cargo and weapons compartments, not to the clean white design with its sleek lines. Dean wondered if he would ever see her again.

They reached the entry ramp just as the ship vibrated with a surprisingly gentle landing, each one automatically taking a covered position to either side of the entrance. Dean took a breath and looked over at his brother.

Sam turned his head to meet his eyes, a look of calm determination on his face. He nodded, and Dean reached out to press the ramp release. In unison, both brothers lifted their weapons, readying themselves for an attack.

When the ramp fell, no attack came. After a moment, Dean gestured silently to Sam to move forward, using the military hand motions John Winchester had learned in the Clone Wars. They crept down the ramp together, both expecting an ambush that never came.

Instead, once they were solidly on the planet’s surface, boots ankle-deep in thick blue-green grass, a single unarmed human strode up to them, apparently unconcerned by their cocked weapons.

He was clad in what must have been a native costume: tall brown boots, tight brown leggings, and a flowing tan tunic held in by a broad brown belt. Although his belt had multiple utility attachments, he wore no blasters or holsters that Dean could see. His hands were held in front of him, both covered by the tunic’s wide sleeves so Dean couldn’t see if he carried a weapon there.

Dean’s breath hitched when he caught a look at the man’s face. Dark hair fell messily around an expressive, sun tanned face.  Deep blue eyes caught him off-guard, so intense and sincere that Dean wanted to listen to anything this man had to say. _Damn,_ he thought, steeling himself against their pull.

“I would prefer not to fight,” the man said, nodding to their weapons.

“Yeah, well, it’s not my favorite thing either, but sometimes I don’t get to make that call,” Dean retorted. “Who are you?”

“The man who just saved your life,” the stranger told him calmly. “Both of yours.”

“Why?” Dean asked, more suspicious because of the non-answer.

The man cocked his head to one side, inquisitive but still unruffled. “It was within my power to stop your deaths. What else could I do?”

Dean glanced at Sam, who was staring in awe at the man, right hand lowered so his weapon hung uselessly at his side. _Dammit, Sammy_ , Dean thought.

“You used the Force,” Sam stated, wonder in his voice. “You saw a ship falling in the atmosphere and used to the Force to stop it.”

“Sam!” Dean snapped. Sam _knew_ better than to talk like that. They were running – hunted – because of his brother’s uncanny abilities. Talking like that was asking to be exposed.

“Perhaps,” the man said, something like surprise – or bemusement – in his voice. He looked Sam over again, that expressive face belying his interest. “Perhaps I have a tractor beam in hidden in those trees over there,” he gestured to the edge of the dense forest.

Sam shook his head. “But you don’t. You used the Force.”

The man pursed his lips for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he nodded. “Who are you?” he asked.

“You first,” Dean cut in.

The man shook his head calmly. “You’re on my land, in a broken ship, which I just stopped from killing you both. You can afford me your names.”

“Sam Winchester,” Sam said honestly, and Dean had to stop himself from reaching out to throttle the kid. “This is my brother, Dean.”

“I am Castiel,” the strange man said.

“Are you a Jedi?” Sam blurted out.

Something in Castiel’s face softened, and Dean could read the grief in his eyes. “No,” he said softly. “Not anymore.”

“But you were?” Sam prodded.

“Why are you here?” Castiel asked, sidestepping the question. “And how did your ship sustain such damage?”

“We’re looking for the furthest planet in the galaxy from the Empire. This was as far as we could make,” Dean answered.

Castiel looked Sam over again. “You’re Force-sensitive. You’re being hunted,” he said, voice as certain as if they had told him that themselves.

“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “How did you know?”

“It’s obvious,” Castiel told him. “Will you be able to repair your ship?”

“Excuse me?” Dean asked, head spinning at the sudden subject change.

“Your ship. It’s damaged, but not beyond repair. Will you be able to fix it? I’m afraid I won’t be of much help in that endeavor.”

“I can fix it just fine,” Dean said, mentally checking off what parts he had in storage, and which systems he could cannibalize for temporary patches.

“How long?” Castiel asked.

Dean gave a half shrug. “Two weeks? Four? Maybe more, depending on the damage. Why?”

Castiel’s bright blue eyes bore into him. “I would prefer that you leave this planet as soon as possible. I would rather avoid Imperial Inquisitors appearing at my doorstep.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” Dean asked cynically.

“I suppose we would,” Castiel responded seriously. “Please, fix your vehicle, and leave this place as soon as possible. Call it a favor, in return for me saving your lives.” He turned around and began walking back in the direction he had come from.

“Wait!” Sam called after him. “You can’t just leave!”

Castiel turned back to look at them, but his boots stayed planted toward the tree line. “This is my home, Sam Winchester. I’ve found I can do as I please here.”

He turned back and marched silently into the trees, leaving the Winchester brothers to quietly watch his departure.

 

 

…

 

Sam and Dean decided to do exactly what Castiel asked. After all, they needed the _Impala_ in working order, and Dean didn’t much like the idea of sitting around and making themselves easy targets. The sooner they were back in space, the better.

It took most of the evening to catalog the damage, but it wasn’t as extensive as Dean had feared. By the next afternoon, the brothers were busily working on the sublight engine, pulling damaged parts and blown fuses and stacking them for replacement or repair.

“So what is this place anyway?” Sam asked sometime in the local midmorning.

“The edge of the ass-end of the galaxy?” Dean answered rhetorically, digging through his memory for the planet name. He hadn’t really been paying attention yesterday; he had chosen the furthest planet he could navigate them too, without much thought for anything else but fuel capacity. “Some moon past the Trian system. Sav, I think it’s called.”

Sam whistled lowly. “I didn’t think we’d been in hyperspace that long.”

“We weren’t,” Dean told him, pulling a blackened power converter out of the engine. “New modifications. Half her systems may be trash right now, but I’d bet hard credits that the _Impala_ has the fastest civilian hyperdrive in the galaxy.”

“How’d you manage that one?” Sam asked raising an eyebrow.

“Remember that last run we did before the Imperials caught up with us?” Dean asked. “The one that started at the Kuat Drive Yards?”

Sam’s eyes widened. That had been one of their most dangerous jobs, with absolutely no room for error. To be honest, Dean had gotten lucky when he had come across the cache of military-grade engine parts. He had had to sneak them onto the ship while Sam was distracted, and may have forgotten to mention it to his paranoid little brother. “What did you do, Dean?” he asked, somewhere between a reprimand and awe.

“Trust me, Sammy-boy,” Dean said with a sly grin. “I just gave her an extra edge.”

Dean reached for another burnt out part, but paused when his brother suddenly went still beside him. It was quick – only a handful of seconds – and then Sam was relaxing again. “Castiel is outside,” his younger brother said softly. “He wants to talk with me.”

“Not alone, he’s not,” Dean said, standing up just after Sam. It was a foregone conclusion that Sam would comply with the request. Last night, Dean had seen the light in his eyes at the realization that he had met another Force user – one who wasn’t trying to kill them.

Dean grabbed his blaster, which he had laid next to him and out of the way as they worked, and followed Sam back to the entry ramp and down to the planet as he holstered it.

The man was clad in the same brown and tan costume he had worn the day before, his dark hair standing in stark contrast against the pale tunic. He was standing just outside the shadow of the _Impala_ , holding himself aloft.

“Sam Winchester,” he intoned angrily as they stepped out onto the grass. “I must ask you to control yourself. Need I remind you that we are both hunted in this galaxy?”

“Uh – what?” Sam asked, face blank with confusion.

Castiel stared at him, those blue eyes drawing Dean in with their intensity again. “Your constant searching in the Force is like a beacon to the Inquisitors. What in the galaxy are you looking for?”

Sam blinked a few times. “Seeking? I’m not looking for anything,” he said after a moment.

“Then why the constant pull on the Force?” Castiel asked, that deep gravelly voice dark with concern.

“I –” Sam started, hesitantly. “I didn’t even know I was doing it. Am I – is that how they keep finding us?”

“Doubtless,” Castiel told him, his brows furrowed together.

“How do I stop?” Sam asked, his voice getting higher with anxiety. “Can I?”

Castiel sighed heavily. “Two weeks?” he asked, turning to look Dean in the eyes.

 “At least,” Dean confirmed.

Castiel nodded, almost imperceptibly. “No choice, then. I’ll have to train you.”

“Train me?” Sam asked, incredulous. “As a Jedi?”

Castiel let out a huff of a cynical laugh. “Jedi training takes years, starting in almost infancy. In two weeks? I can help you learn control, give you some exercises to guide you in hiding yourself. I could never make you a Jedi, though.”

Sam threw Dean a questioning look.

“What kind of exercises?” Dean asked.

“Meditation, a deeper understanding of the Force. Nothing that would harm him,” Castiel responded.

“And it’ll help him keep us safer?” he pressed.

“Without it, he’s going to bring Inquisitors down on all of us.”

Dean pressed his lips together. He didn’t like it: some stranger coming out of the middle of literally nowhere and teaching his brother to be even _more_ abnormal. Assuming, of course, he really was interested in protecting them and not trying to take Sam away like the Inquisitors.

“I’ll do it,” Sam said before Dean could ask anything else. Dean looked at his brother, who looked younger and more idealistic than he had since their father’s death.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Dean said, putting up one hand toward his brother, as though that could stop him. “We don’t know anything about this guy! He could be just as bad as the imps!”

Sam looked over at him again, his eyes intense and dark, framed by his shaggy brown hair. “I have to do this, Dean,” he said, in that overly sincere way of his. “If something I’m doing is putting us in danger, I have to fix it. I can’t do that on my own.”

“We can figure it out,” Dean insisted. “We always figure it out!”

“No, we can’t,” Sam told him. “We are so out of our league here, I don’t even know which way is up sometimes. If Castiel can point me in the right direction, we might have half a shot here.”

“We have more than half a shot, even without him,” Dean retorted, but it was half-hearted. He knew when he was beat.

“It’ll be alright,” Sam insisted, voice low and cajoling. He turned back to Castiel before Dean could respond. “When do we start?”

“Now, I would think,” Castiel said. “The sooner, the better.”

Both of them turned their heads toward Dean, expecting him to protest.

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he sighed. “Have him home by dinner, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Castiel said.

Dean turned around and headed back into the _Impala._ He had a lot of work to do, and apparently he had to do it alone.

 

…

 

True to their word, Sam and Castiel trotted up to the _Impala_ just as the sun was about to hit the horizon, lighting the sky with shocks of pink and orange clouds. Dean saw them coming from his perch above the cockpit, where he was recalibrating the aft shields. He had spent the afternoon tearing out their wiring and replacing it with a brand new system.

Dean looked down at the two, and was surprised by the burden Sam carried over one shoulder. “You brought dinner,” he said blandly.

“I had a lucky day,” Castiel answered for Sam. “My snares were full, and I thought you would enjoy fresh hakkai meat.”

Sam tossed the carcass of the four-legged mammal onto the ground. The thing reminded Dean of the krahbu of Corellia: an herbivore used for food and hunted for sport, with a sleek long neck and long, spindly legs covered in short, bristled hair. It was gamier than nerf, but Dean had enjoyed its meat on the rare occasion he had tried it.

“Wouldn’t want to turn down hakkai,” he said, sounding more suspicious than he actually was. He started down the ladder he had propped up against the _Impala_ to meet his brother and the ex-Jedi.

“We brought some vegetables, too,” Sam said as Castiel put a canvas bag beside the hakkai. “Castiel taught me how to forage in the forest.”

“Yeah? Did he teach you anything about the Force?” Dean asked. Now that he was on the ground, he took the time to circle around his brother, looking him over for injuries.

“I’m fine,” Sam said, halfheartedly pushing Dean away with one hand. “And yes, I did learn about the Force, jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean said, automatically, a half smile on his face now that he was satisfied his brother was unharmed. He looked back to Castiel, who was now on the ground with a knife, preparing to butcher the hakkai. It was much larger than anything the ship’s small food prep station could possibly handle. “Is it safe to set up a fire pit here? We gonna have any trouble with predators or anything?”

“A fire will scare off anything dangerous,” Castiel assured him, his deep voice calm and reassuring.

Dean nodded and grabbed a vibroknife from his utility belt. “Alright, Sammy-boy,” he said, “you wanna get some wood for us? I’ll clear a space for the fire.”

The three of them worked well together as they quietly went about their tasks: Castiel cleaning and preparing the food, Dean cutting out a three meter circle of sod about ten meters from the _Impala_ ’s hull, and Sam dragging dry wood from the forest back to them. Once he was done, Sam raided the ship’s small kitchen for salts and spices to rub into the meat. It took a while, but they eventually had a large fire roaring, with large slabs of seasoned meat hanging on skewers over the fire, and root vegetables wrapped in metal sheets buried in the soft soil at the edge of the flames.

“You know what this could use?” Sam asked, sitting back and admitting the flames against the dusk sky.

“Pie?” Dean asked. He thought he might have some in the _Impala_ , stashed away for a rainy day, and he wondered if he should bring it out and share it after dinner.

 Sam huffed out a laugh. “I was thinking that Corellian whiskey we have on board, but pie works, too.”

“I like the whiskey idea,” Dean told him. “How ’bout you go grab it and bring it out?”

Sam was gone as soon as the words were out of his mouth, loping off to the ship and leaving Dean alone with Castiel. They sat in silence for a minute, side by side before the fire, close enough to feel the other’s radiant body heat over the heat of the flames.

“I know it’s not easy, trusting a stranger with your brother,” Castiel said quietly, almost carefully breaking the silence. “I appreciate you letting me help him.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, not really sure how to answer that. “We don’t need any chick flick moments? It’s cool.” He watched the flames dance for a moment before asking, “What did you teach him, anyway?”

“Meditation techniques,” Castiel answered simply. “Ways to clear his mind, center himself. Your brother’s power is strong, and he’s been through a lot. It’s not easy for him to quiet his mind.”

“Not easy to live the kind of life he’s had to grow up in,” Dean retorted.

“What kind of life?” Castiel asked.

Dean looked over, and those blue eyes seemed to glow in the light of the flames. There was something strangely calming about this man – something that made Dean feel safe here, in the middle of nowhere. “Hunted,” he said after a long pause. “Twelve years now we’ve been on the run, since Sammy was just a kid. Two since our dad died, protecting Sam from the Inquisitors. Always seems like no matter how far we run, though, they always catch up with us.”

“You couldn’t have been more than a child yourself when you started running,” Castiel pointed out quietly.

Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We had to keep Sammy safe – and besides, I like this life, you know? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, staying in one place all the time.”

“I know,” Castiel agreed, something wistful in his voice. “It grows on you, though. Staying in one place.”

“How long have you been here, Cas?” Dean asked, the nickname rolling off his tongue without permission.

Castiel didn’t seem to mind it. “Too long,” he said. His voice sounded far away and sad. Just for a moment, it made Dean want to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Dean balled his hands into a fist, rejecting the instinct.

Castiel opened his mouth as if to go on, but then closed it and turned his head toward the _Impala_.

Sure enough, Sam was just walking down the ramp, bottle in one hand and a tray of plates, glasses and utensils in the other. “How’s the food doing?” he asked, oblivious to the moment he ruined.

Castiel stood up quickly, leaving Dean feeling suddenly cold in his absence, and stalked over to the flame. “The smaller ones seem ready to eat,” he said, cutting a few strips of meat off the skewers and putting them on a plate Sam held out for him. Dean got up and started digging up the veggies.

He was more relaxed through dinner that night than he had been in the last several weeks since the Inquisitors had picked up their scent again. He bickered good-naturedly with Sam as Castiel watched, occasionally offering his own snipe or observation. With a full belly of fresh food and aged drink, he thought maybe he would sleep well for the first time in weeks, too.

Sam went to bed first, clearly exhausted from his training with Cas, or maybe dragging so much wood over afterwards. Dean watched him stumble into the _Impala_ , a little drunk but fine on his own.

Dean stood up to douse the already dying fire. Castiel stood with him, shadowing his movements.

Dean turned to look at the other man, meeting those deep blue eyes, only a handful of inches from his own. He took a breath, ready to say something – to tell him to get out of his space, or ask him to go back to wherever he called home.

Instead, he started at those eyes, falling into them.

Castiel opened his mouth as if to say something, as well, and then closed it. He held Dean’s gaze for a long minute.

He was the one who broke the silence, when Dean was still speechless. “Thank you, Dean Winchester. It’s been a long time since I shared a meal with another human.”

“Anytime,” Dean said, finding his voice, but not his sense. “Come back tomorrow – or every night, until we head out again.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, again. I think I will take you up on that offer.”

Dean gave his most charming smile – though it felt a bit shaky even to him. Castiel nodded, then turned to leave, disappearing as soon as he left the fire’s light.

Dean doused the rest of it and made his way back onto the ship.

There was no way he would sleep soundly tonight.

 

…

 

The next day proceeded much like the first: Dean worked on the ship all day, and Castiel came to collect Sam mid-morning for training. When they came back for dinner that night – more of the beast they had roasted the first night – Dean made sure to keep Sam between him and Castiel, and kept the conversation light.

When Sam went to bed that night, Castiel once again watched Dean, curious, but didn’t say anything beyond a simple, “Good night, Dean,” before once again disappearing into the shadows of the sleeping planet.

If anything, that made Dean think about him even more.

The smuggler went to bed that night unsure of himself and his surroundings. Why did this Jedi – ex-Jedi, or whatever – have such a strong hold over him? What was it about him that Dean couldn’t get out of his head?

Well, that was obvious: the man was beautiful, in a strong, rugged kind of way. Dean could see his find musculature under his robes, could appreciate the careful way he moved, as if in complete control.

This wasn’t Dean’s first rodeo, though, and he was well past the age when he was taken in by a pretty face and the promise of a nice ass.

And yet, he couldn’t get Castiel off his mind.

He stayed up most of the night trying.

 

…

 

The next morning, Dean decided to take the day off. His baby could wait an extra day for repairs, and he needed a change of scenery.

When Castiel came to the ship mid-morning, he didn’t just let Sam leave with him as he had before. Instead, he asked, “Can I come?”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up questioningly.

“Why?” Sam asked before Cas could. His voice was tinged with suspicion.

“I’m curious,” Dean said simply.

“There’s not much to see,” Castiel told him, “but I don’t see the harm. Sam should be used to having you around when he practices these techniques.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Really? You need to check up on me?” He sighed, recognizing a lost cause for what it was. “Let’s get this over with.”

The younger Winchester led them out of the _Impala_ , his body rigid and showing clear signs of agitation.

“You need to relax, Sam,” Castiel chided him as they crossed the clearing and walked into the thick forest that surrounded it. He had the tone of an instructor, or a commander, when he continued: “Here, we can work here today. Sit. Clear your mind.”

Sam sat on a fallen log, his feet solidly on the ground and each hand on the corresponding knee. His posture was straight, but relaxed. He let his eyes close, and Dean could see him taking deep breaths. Castiel sat as well, cross-legged on the ground with the same posture, though he didn’t close his eyes.

It really _wasn’t_ much to see, so Dean took a few moments to look around the forest.

Like the field where the _Impala_ stood, the vegetation in the forest had an odd, blue-green tone to it. The trees were massive here – not overwhelmingly tall, like the ones he’d heard of on the wookiee home world – but thick and lush. The rough brown trunks varied from about two to four meters in diameter, and their thick branches started to grow about three meters up, making for a thick, low canopy. The leaves themselves were wide and dark, making even the bright morning sky feel dark and far away.

Unsurprisingly, the vegetation seemed to be home to a diverse ecosystem. Dean could hear the distant calls of what he guessed was at least a dozen different avian species, and saw numerous insects and fungi living at the forest floor. Of course, he had already seen the hakkai that lived here.

“Should we be on the lookout for anything here, Cas?” Dean asked, his voice low so as not to disturb Sam. His brother’s face still crinkled into an annoyed frown, but Dean was pretty sure he was just being a drama queen. “Any predators or anything?”

“You’re safe enough with me,” Castiel told him. “Please, I can answer questions later, but right now I need you to be silent.”

“Very reassuring,” Dean said softly, voice dripping with sarcasm. He leaned against a tree and fingered his blaster at his side, hoping that if something did attack them, at least he would be ready for it.

Cas threw him an annoyed look, but didn’t say anything else to him when it was clear that Dean would remain quiet.

“Sam, you must be at peace with the Force. You can feel it around you, yes?”

Sam nodded. “It’s everywhere,” he responded.

Castiel nodded, and Dean let himself admire his controlled movements, and the fine lines of his back and shoulders. “Concentrate on how it fills _you_ , not the rest of the world now,” Castiel told him. “It ties you to all things, but you do not need to lose yourself to those connections in order to feel the Force.”

A slight frown crossed Sam’s face and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“It doesn't feel natural like that,” he complained.

“Which is why you're such a danger,” Castiel chided him gently. “You're always reaching out, even when you’re not thinking about it. You need to learn to keep yourself hidden if you want to survive.”

Sam nodded. “To keep us safe,” he said. He closed his eyes again and started to breathe deeply.

Once again, Dean turned his attention to Castiel. The Jedi sat with preternatural stillness, watching Sam intently.

The morning went on like that, with Castiel coaching Sam though meditative exercises, always pushing him to look inside instead of out. Dean thought he would get bored, watching them, but he found he enjoyed the view. He rather thought he could happily spend hours watching Castiel do anything.

By mid-afternoon, though, he was bored and his stomach was growling. Castiel and Sam seemed impervious to discomfort, both of them now sitting on the muddy ground beside a stream, doing – _something_ – with the fish that swam in it.

He was about to ask if they wanted to take a break for food when Castiel suddenly went stock-still, his whole posture changing to battle-ready alertness. Between one heartbeat and the next, he was on his feet, stance wide and open, with both hands holding a glowing white-blue laser sword.

 _A lightsaber,_ Dean thought, half in shock. He had always thought the things only existed in fairy tales.

Before Dean could recover, Castiel was twirling to the left, that glowing saber swooping up and in an impossibly fast dance.

As he did so, four large, canine creatures with dark, scaled hides jumped out of the forest at the three of them. Castiel took out the first two with precise swipes of his blade before Dean even registered that they were there.

Dean was no stranger to danger himself. As the third one pivoted to attack Sam, Dean pulled out his blaster and shot it twice – once in the shoulder and a second time right in the back of the head. The creature fell to the side, dead, a few feet from the younger Winchester.

“You ok, Sammy?” Dean asked, looking to his left to target the last creature. Castiel had already dealt with it, though, and was now standing over it with his blade held in a defensive stance.

“Fine,” Sam said. “I think that was the last of them.”

“It was,” Castiel confirmed, shutting off the lightsaber and clipping it to his belt. He turned back toward the Winchesters, a grim look on his face.

“How did you know they were gonna attack, Cas?” Dean asked.

“The Force lives in all things, Dean. Those who can feel it can learn to anticipate these dangers,” Castiel told him gravely. “Have you been paying attention at all today?”

Dean managed to look a bit chagrined – because, yeah, Cas had been talking about a lot of Force mumbo jumbo all morning, and that fell in line with what he had been saying – but mostly he was just turned on by the other man’s skill with his weapon. It was clear Cas wouldn’t be impressed if he made a pass right now, though.

“Will I be able to do that too, someday?” Sam asked, interrupting Dean’s thoughts. He looked over to his younger brother, who looking at Castiel in awe.

Castiel tilted his head and looked at Sam for an uncomfortably long time. “I thought you understood, Sam: I cannot teach you to be a Jedi,” he said at last. “Even if I had the skill, it takes years of training. All I can give you are some tools, and hopefully some wisdom, before you leave.”

The look of disappointment on Sam’s face was painful for Dean to see.  “Hey, maybe it’s time for a break. I think we could all use something to eat,” he said, distracting them.

“I think that’s a very good idea, Dean,” Castiel said. “But first, I’d like to clean up this mess and dispose of these creatures before they attract any more predators.”

 

 

 

…

 

Dean found himself sitting in front of a fire, eating spiced hakkai meat cut small and wrapped in some kind of leafy greens that evening. Sam was lying near the fire to his left, dinner already devoured and forgotten, and Castiel sitting on the long shipping container they had brought out as a makeshift bench to his right.

After lunch, Dean had gone back to the _Impala_ to continue her repairs and left Sam and Cas to their own devices. He had seen enough, he decided, to know that he trusted Cas enough to keep Sam safe. Something about the man made him believe that he had nothing but Sam’s best interest in mind, too.

“If you pass out there, I’m not dragging your ass to your bunk,” Dean said, prodding his brother’s shoulder lightly with his boot.

“I’m beat,” Sam complained. “Training is hard.”

“Then get to bed,” Dean told him, only half teasing. “Let the grown-ups talk.”

“Jerk,” Sam pouted, though he slowly pulled himself up to his feet.

“Bitch,” Dean laughed back. He watched his brother shuffle into the _Impala_ , shoulders slumped and head drooping.

“I didn’t mean to push him that hard,” Castiel said, an apologetic note in his voice.

“He’ll be fine,” Dean said dismissively. “The kid could use a good challenge every now and again. Keeps him from going soft.”

Cas turned his head toward Dean, and when Dean looked over he saw the other man had one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Do you think anyone could get soft in the kind of life you lead, Dean?”

“You don’t know anything about our life,” Dean blurted out without thinking.

 “Then tell me,” Castiel prodded softly, surprising Dean with the invitation.

Dean sighed, trying to decide where to even begin.

“It feels like we’ve been on the run since the day Sammy was born,” Dean admitted softly, looking up at the stars he had traveled so extensively with his brother and father. “Our mom disappeared when he was just a baby, and Dad took us boys off planet. He always said he was looking for her, but he never really tried too hard. I think he knew better than to fight the Empire – or maybe he was trying to save Sam from the beginning.

“Sammy was – different – from the day he was born. Like my mom, Dad used to say, but I never saw her use the force when she was alive. Once he was old enough to really show it –a bit over a decade ago – the Inquisitors found us for the first time. Dad got us out of there, but from then on we were always running. It was always my job to protect Sammy, while Dad got us our next job, or found our way out of whatever mess we were in,” Dean paused, not sure what else to say.

“Where is he now?” Castiel asked.

“Dead,” Dean told him, wishing he had something alcoholic in his hand so he could take a swig.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean spat our bitterly. He sighed. Cas didn’t deserve that. So he went on, “He died for me and Sammy. John Winchester, always had to be the hero,” he said mockingly before continuing. “We were in a rough spot, Inquisitors on our heels, and half a dozen political protesters in our ship. They’d paid good money for us to save them from the Imperial agents on Correllia, and we led them right into a trap on Denon. Dad couldn’t leave them without transport, but he couldn’t steal a ship big enough for all of them. So he forged some manifests saying that he, Sam and I boarded a three-person ship there. He took the ship alone, lured the Inquisitors away, and Sammy and I took the prisoners to their rendezvous point in the _Impala_.”

“He could still be alive,” Castiel pointed out. “If he outmaneuvered them, or they took him prisoner.”

A shudder went down Dean’s spine. He had heard rumors of what happened to Imperial prisoners – he couldn’t imagine how much worse the Inquisitors might be than the agents. “I hope not,” he said. “If he had gotten away, he would have gotten in touch with us by now – we have special encryptions he could have used. If not – better dead than that.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, again. “John Winchester sounds like a brave man.” He shifted a little closer to Dean and put a comforting hand on his knee. Usually Dean would brush off the intrusion, but he welcomed it from this man. He leaned over just enough to feel Cas, their arms pressing together from shoulder to elbow.

They sat like that for a few minutes, silently contemplating their paths, always darkened by an Empire which would extinguish them in a moment if given a chance. 

“The Inquisitors hunted us first,” Castiel said eventually, voice so soft and distant, Dean wondered if he heard them at all. His voice was stronger when he continued, but no less distant. “After the clones rose up against us, killing most of the Jedi in a unified attack. I had just attained the rank of Jedi Knight, and I was in a single-person craft, on my way to investigate rumors of exploitation by the mining guild on a backwater planet in the outer rim.

“I knew something was wrong the moment it happened. I felt it as they died. I heard my Master Anael crying out in surprise, then pain as she was betrayed by those who swore to serve her in battle. It was like nothing I’d ever imagined before – hundreds of voices, strong in the Force, all crying out at once. Every one of them warning those who survived.” Cas leaned into Dean, and Dean leaned back so that their heads touched, each one finding comfort in the touch of the other. Dean thought about reaching out, holding the hand that laid on his knee with anchoring weight, but he didn’t want to disturb the moment.

“What did you do?” he asked instead.

“I heeded their warning,” Castiel told him. “My talent has always been strongest with the psychic manifestations of the Force: reaching out over great distances, sensing others, visions of the present – though not the future, like others sometimes see. I dropped out of hyperspace and floated alone between the stars. I’ll never forget the depth of the darkness there.

“I tried to reach out to old friends and allies, but they were lost to me – hidden or dead. Eventually, I redirected my course to a nearby planet where I could purchase rations and fuel, but I didn’t stop calling out for other Jedi who might have survived. It was a mistake that almost killed me: the Inquisitors heard, and were waiting for me when I came out of hyperspace.”

“Damn,” Dean breathed. “How did you survive?”

“The Force guided me. Through it, I anticipated the need to leave the planet quickly, and had charted a hyperspace course before I dropped into subspace. If I hadn’t had those calculations done, I would have been dead.” Castiel let out a long sigh. “Eventually, I found another Jedi, a Master who told me that now was not the time to fight – that that time would come, but not yet. He told me to hide, and that I would know when it was time to join the fight again.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “So there are other Jedi – Jedi Masters – alive?”

“At least one other,” Castiel confirmed. “Or there was. The last time I saw him was almost fifteen years ago.”

Dean whistled. “You’ve been here for fifteen years? Alone all that time?”

“Almost,” Castiel affirmed. “It’s better than the alternative.”

And wow. The dude wasn’t that much older than Dean – he couldn’t have been more than thirty-five standard years, probably less. He was probably still a teenager when he landed here.

“Don’t you get lonely?” Dean asked.

Castiel gave a half-hearted shrug against him, pulling his head away from Dean. “It has not been easy,” he admitted. “But Jedi are raised to avoid attachments. Loneliness was nothing new to me.”

Dean turned his head toward Castiel, his nose bare millimeters away from the other man’s face. He breathed in, finding his scent intoxicating. This strange, beautiful man couldn’t possibly think that that was the best life for him. “You don’t have to be lonely like that,” Dean said, voice soft and careful, so as not to spook the Jedi. “There are others out there, running from the Empire, or fighting it. You could join us.”

Castiel stiffened, spooked despite Dean’s best efforts. “I think it’s time for me to turn in,” he said, looking up to the star-strewn sky. His face was paler in the firelight, and he looked haunted. He started to pull back from Dean all together.

Dean reached out and grabbed the hand that still laid on his knee. “Stay,” he said, blurting the word out before he could think of it.

Castiel shook his head and gently extricated his hand from Dean’s. “I can’t,” the Jedi told him softly, regret in his eyes.  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, when I come for Sam.”

He slipped away into the shadows beyond the flame before Dean could respond.

 

 

…

 

Dean made sure to avoid Cas for the next couple of days, concentrating on repairs deep inside the ship whenever the Jedi came for Sam in the morning, and making sure to keep Sam talking between them during dinner. He even turned in early, slipping away from the warm fire and Castiel’s bright eyes before he could get any more ideas about keeping the other man in their lives. Castiel was skittish, and Dean saw enough to know that the other man was somewhat frightened by him.

Still, it didn’t stop him from imagining what the other man’s presence in the _Impala_ would be like. Sure, he would probably drive Dean nuts teaching Sam that Jedi mumbo jumbo – but it would probably be worth it. Dean could just imagine showing Cas the galaxy he had missed out on in the past decade and a half – the quizzical looks he would challenge himself to entice, or the dry chuckles he would tease out.

He thought about Castiel in his bunk, warm and soft with sleep, and wondered if the other man preferred sex in the morning or night – if the other man had ever had a chance to find out his preference.

And so he stayed away from Castiel, because it was clear that was not what he wanted, and Dean didn’t know how not to want that from him.

It lasted for three days, before Castiel put a stop to it.

That night at dinner, Dean scarfed down his meal of root vegetables and the meat of a small, gamey mammal Castiel and Sam had caught that afternoon. He rose to leave as soon as he was finished, planning to leave the Jedi and his pupil in peace.

“Dean,” Castiel said calmly, staring at the fire in front of him. His plate was empty, too, Dean realized.

“What’s up?” Dean asked, keeping his voice as calm and steady as Cas had.

Castiel looked back at him then, catching Dean’s eyes in the firelight.

“I wondered – it’s been a long time since I’ve had any contact with the rest of the galaxy. I find I miss some of the entertainment it once offered,” Cas said tentatively.

Dean raised an eyebrow. _Entertainment?_ He thought.

“Sam told me you had an extensive library onboard,” the Jedi clarified.

“Holovids?” Dean asked, feeling his mouth stretch into an incredulous smile. “You want to come on my ship and watch holovids with me?”

“I would like that, yes,” he said, and Dean swore he saw a hunt of shyness in his eyes.

“Sam?” Dean asked his brother.

“You two go,” Sam said wearily. “I’m gonna finish up and get to bed. I’m not really up for it tonight.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said. He shrugged, gesturing in the general direction of the _Impala._ “You have anything in mind?”

Castiel stood up and followed him into the ship. It was the first time the Jedi had been on board, and Dean thought he should probably be wary of that, but he wasn’t. He wanted to show Cas all of her, actually – show off the intricacies and clever upgrades to his baby – but this wasn’t the right time for it.

“I was always partial to comedies,” Castiel told him. “My Jedi Master had little time or interest for them, and they were a rare treat when I was a padawan.”

“Comedy it is,” Dean agreed, going over some of the best holos of the last few years. He didn’t think Cas would appreciate a melodramatic dramedy like Dr. Sexy, MD, but there was one particular absurdist troupe that he thought the Jedi might appreciate. Their political humor had run them underground, and their holovids were considered contraband by the Empire – but that would probably be a point in their favor.

Dean led Cas to the ship’s lounge, pulled a data card from a drawer in one wall and installed it into the projector. He took a seat on the long couch around the game table and looked up at Cas, who was still standing in the entrance of the lounge, looking around.

“Well? Take a seat,” Dean invited him in.

“I’m sorry. It’s just – it’s been a long time since I’ve been aboard a ship. Longer still since I’ve seen entertainment or accommodations like yours,” Cas explained.

The words stuck with Dean, made him want to reach out to Cas and erase the last fifteen years of what must have been unending pain and loneliness. The _Impala_ may have been his prize, the best ship in the galaxy, but even he knew she wasn’t luxurious. Sleek and fast and beautiful and classic, yes – but incapable of the kind of luxury Castiel saw in her.

“We have another week or so here for you to take advantage however you want,” Dean told him with a smile. He silently cursed himself for it – inviting Castiel into his ship would not get his mind off him – but the invitation was out now. “C’mon,” he continued. “Have a seat. Watch the show.”

Castiel pressed his lips together in an approximation of a smile. “Thank you, Dean,” he said soberly.

Castiel walked across the room, ignoring the plush lounge chairs to sit next to Dean on the couch. He sat entirely too close, leaving almost a meter of free space on his right so that he could almost brush up against Dean’s leg to the left.

Dean swallowed surreptitiously, not entirely sure what to do with this situation he found himself in, but also not willing to pull away. He resolved to sit back and relax, to enjoy the holovid and pretend he wasn’t basking in the ambient warmth of Castiel’s presence.

Dean had seen this one countless times with Sam, and although he loved seeing how it made Castiel laugh, he had had a very long day repairing his ship. It wasn’t surprising that he fell asleep less than halfway through.

The lounge was quiet when he woke up. He blinked his eyes open slowly, senses soft and hazy. He had a vague sense that Castiel had probably left, gone to whatever home he had built for himself, and so he was surprised to see the Jedi still sitting beside him when his eyes finally focused.

Castiel was watching him, a strange, fond, look on his face. Those intense blue eyes were just _watching_ , as though Dean was the most interesting person in the galaxy. He was close, too, leaning in so Dean could feel his warm breath on his face. “You’re still here?” Dean asked stupidly.

“I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up or not,” Castiel admitted softly. “I would have carried you to your bunk, but I didn’t know which one was yours.”

Dean blushed at the idea, embarrassed by how much he thought he liked it. “Glad you didn’t,” he lied. “Wouldn’t be good for my reputation.”

“I hope you don’t have to worry about your reputation with me,” Castiel said, serious where Dean had tried to joke.

Dean shook his head.  “I think I can make an exception,” he said.

Cas gave him a sweet, endearing smile. “Thank you, Dean,” he said after a moment. “I – I didn’t realize how much I would enjoy that.”

“Sure,” Dean responded, still caught in those hypnotizing eyes. “Anytime. Really. Maybe next time I’ll actually stay up.”

Castiel chuckled, but still didn’t pull back. “I’d like that,” he admitted.

“Good,” Dean said, his own eyes softening as he smiled up at the Jedi. “It’s a date.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Dean knew it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Castiel, skittish as he was, pulled back and sat up straight, his eyes suddenly wandering around the room and avoiding Dean.

“I should go,” he told Dean. “It’s late, and we have training in the morning.”

“I could use my bed,” Dean agreed neutrally.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas responded. He got up and closed the distance to the lounge door before Dean could even respond, but then he pivoted on his feet to turn and look back at Dean. “I’ll see you tomorrow, when I pick up Sam?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” Dean told him, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across his lips. “Good night, Cas.”

“Sleep well, Dean,” the Jedi said. Then he was gone.

Dean stayed there for a few long minutes, trying not to read too deeply into the way the Jedi had acted around him. Still, he couldn’t deny himself a bit of hope.

 

…

 

Dean relaxed again with Castiel after that, bringing him into the _Impala_ to watch holovids most nights after dinner. Castiel drank them up, trying to take in as much as he could before the Winchesters left him alone again. Sam joined them a couple of times, but for the most part the younger Winchester was too focused on his training for much else.

Every time, Cas let Dean pick out the holo. He waited until Dean had settled before sitting beside him, close but not touching.

It drove Dean insane.

Every night, Dean wanted to reach out, put his arm around the other man, kiss him – _something_. But every time Dean made anything like a move forward, Castiel would freeze up again, then run.

Eight days later, Dean was almost done fixing the _Impala_ when he decided to ask, just one last time. He waited for Castiel to sit beside him, but held off on starting the holovid.

“You know,” he said with forced casualness, “We’re almost done here. Sammy and I plan to leave in two days.”

“I know, Dean. Sam has kept me appraised of your work,” Castiel told him softly.

“Still not too late to change your mind,” Dean told him. “We have plenty of space for a second mate on here. I’m sure Sammy could use the help.”

Castiel sighed. “We’ve been over this, Dean. My place is here.”

“You know, I hear the words you’re saying, but they don’t really make sense,” Dean told him. “Wouldn’t you be better hidden on the move? Where you could maybe do some good?” he paused, then turned so he could look into Castiel’s eyes. “Wouldn’t you be better with us?”

 _With me?_ he amended silently.

Castiel looked down, his face sad, then hardening into resolve. “It’s not that easy, Dean,” Castiel said, his voice rough and sad. “The Jedi – ” he paused, gathering his thoughts, then started again. “Those of us who use the Force are shaped by the power we use – light or dark. The light side of the Force, the side that the Jedi use, leads us to compassion, peace, selflessness. The dark side encapsulates anger, hate, fear, and selfishness. To follow the light, the Jedi eschew emotional attachments, passion. They taught that strong emotions are the doorway to doubt, to the dark side.”

“Strong emotions?” Dean prodded.

“Please don’t press me to explain what you already know,” Castiel told him. And there it was, all out in the open: Cas felt the same way, and it broke Dean’s heart.

“You don’t seem all that convinced,” Dean pointed out, unable to stop himself from at least trying to change his mind.

Castiel shook his head, still looking down at the metal deck of the lounge. “I’ve spent most of the last fifteen years alone, meditating on the Force: light and dark sides both. Bogen and Ashla – that’s what the first Jedi called them. I heard it mentioned in a holocron once, when I was still in the early years of my training. I don’t know why that lesson stuck with me so strongly.”

He went silent for a moment, as though wrapped up in the memory. “What did all the meditation teach you?” Dean prompted softly.

“I think, now, that the light side and dark side are two extremes of the same power,” Castiel told him, raising his head to meet Dean’s eyes. “The Jedi were very concerned with balance in the Force, but pure light is no more balanced than pure darkness.”

Dean held his gaze for a minute, waiting for him to go on. When it was clear that he wasn’t going to, Dean asked, “What does that mean?”

A melancholy smile broke across Castiel’s face. “I’m not sure it matters,” he said. “I’m not sure of much of anything anymore.”

“Well you have about two days to figure it out,” Dean told him.

“I’ll do my best, Dean,” Cas said, leaning into the smuggler fondly. Dean stiffened for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact, then relaxed and brought up his hand to squeeze Cas’s shoulder. The Jedi continued, “Would you come back for me, if I said I needed more time to think?”

Now it was Dean’s turn to look down, avoiding eye contact. “If we could,” he said, honest as he could get. “With lives like ours, we never know if we’ll be around to keep any promises, though.”

Castiel nodded. “Of course,” he said, voice grave and soft. “You should put on the holovid. Before it gets too late.”

“Sure thing,” Dean said, reaching forward to turn on the holoprojector. 

When he settled back into his seat, Castiel leaned into him again, stiff and uncertain, but still _there_. Dean wrapped his arm around the Jedi’s shoulders, holding him close. He tilted his head so he could watch Cas as he took in the holovid, smell his hair and bask in his warmth.

Two more days. That’s all he would have with this marvel of a man.

He silently promised both of them that he would be back someday. If he and Sammy could survive long enough, could find a way to come back here without the Empire on their tails, could ensure that they wouldn’t be putting Castiel in danger just by being here –

They’d figure it out. And then he’d be back. He silently swore it.

 

…

 

The next night was their last on Sav. Dean finished up with the _Impala_ a few hours earlier than he expected, so he took his time in the lounge. He picked out a holovid for the night – something a bit less comedic than they’d been watching. A bit more romantic.

He sat on the couch, caught at the fact that he would probably never have Cas next to him there again. He pondered that a while, rolling the idea over in his head, but couldn’t make himself hate it any less.

 _I’ll come back for you_ , he silently promised again.

He took a deep breath, steeled himself for his last night with Castiel, then went outside to start the fire. Cas and Sam had brought back something avian last night, and there was more than enough left over for dinner today. He’d have it hot and waiting for them when they returned.

He didn’t wait long for them. As soon as he got the fire going, before he could take the meat from the ship’s galley, Sam and Castiel were ambling toward him, coming into view from behind the _Impala._ Dean took a moment to look at the two of them, somewhat amazed by the changes in his brother. Sam was standing straighter, his movements more controlled. He seemed more at peace than he had been before. It looked as though he had found something of himself here.

He shifted his attention to Castiel as the Jedi walked up to him. As soon as he was within reach, Cas lifted a hand to rest on Dean’s arm. “Dean,” he said, holding his gaze intently. “Are the repairs complete?”

Dean nodded slightly. “We’re leaving in the morning. Thought it would be a good idea to get some rest first, leave during the day, just in case.”

Castiel nodded. “I understand.”

“I’ll get dinner,” Sam said as unobtrusively as possible in the background, before disappearing into the ship. Dean barely noticed him.

“Figured out what you think yet?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked down and to the side.

“Yeah, I figured,” Dean said, looking down himself.

“I have something I want to show you. After dinner,” Cas told him. “I spoke to Sam, and he doesn’t mind being alone on the ship for the evening.”

Dean pressed his lips together, knowing what he should say. Nothing good could come of following after Castiel the night before they were supposed to leave them – a broken heart was already his best case scenario.

“Okay,” he said, voice calm and decisive. “After dinner.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said before pulling away to tend to the fire – which clearly did not need any tending. Dean pretended not to notice.

The three of them prepared their meal and ate silently, the gravity of the night falling heavy over them.

“I’ll clean up,” Sam said as soon as they had all finished their meals. “You go ahead.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said. He reached out and pulled Sam into a hug. Dean watched as he said something in Sam’s ear, but he couldn’t hear the words. It made him anxious, seeing the two of them sharing a private moment, and he looked out toward the tree line, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

“I’m ready,” Castiel said, walking back to him and putting a hand on Dean’s elbow. “Please, follow me.”

“Gonna give me any clues as to where we’re going?” Dean asked as he fell in line behind Cas.

“I’d rather not say until we get there,” Castiel told him.

“Fair enough,” Dean said, following him to the tree line and beyond.

This late at night, it was pitch black beneath the trees, and Dean almost stumbled as soon as they cleared the tree line. “Uh, Cas? Not all of us have Force senses or whatever. Do you have some kind of light?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said. With a _crack-hiss_ , his lightsaber snapped to life, showing the forest in its blue-white light. “Will that do?”

“That’s just fine,” Dean said, looking at both Castiel and the blade appreciatively. He could appreciate a good weapon, and the skilled hand that knew how to wield it. 

“This way,” Cas said before starting off again.

Dean followed the Jedi for what must have been about two kilometers before Castiel finally stopped at the edge of a small stream. They must have been closer to the mountains than Dean thought, because they had been travelling steadily uphill, and the ground had gotten more gravelly, with trees further spread out as they went. From here, Dean thought he could almost make out the light of the moon above them.

Castiel held his lightsaber all the way out to the right, turning Dean’s attention to a very old, very well maintained one-man ship in a small clearing. It was Clone War-era: a stocky, angular thing of hard angles and bulky lines. But it was clean, its unpainted haul shining brightly in the saber’s light.

“You came here in that?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. “I’ve tried to keep her maintained, for the day I am called back to duty.”

“Looks like you’re doing a good job of it,” Dean said. “This what you brought me here to show me?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. Or, not entirely.”

He reached out his left hand, and Dean took it automatically. Castiel pulled him forward, toward a large tree. He reached out the hand holding his lightsaber toward the tree.

Dean was surprised to see a seam open in it – then a door swung outward toward them. A small light shown from inside, lighting up a small, cozy room.

“This is your home?” Dean asked, following Castiel inside.

The Jedi turned off his lightsaber and closed the door behind them while Dean looked around the small, single-room dwelling. To one side was a large pile of skins and blankets laid on a frame which made what looked like a rather luxurious bed, given the circumstances. A small table with a single chair took up most of the opposite side, with a small kitchen storage area just behind it. Animal hides were hung over three points around the room, probably stopping the interior light from spilling through hidden windows. Castiel must have done most of his cooking outside, since there was no way to vent smoke out of the room, but overall it seemed like quite a cozy home.

“Yes,” Castiel said, and when Dean looked at him, he was blushing.

Dean smiled tentatively. “You wanted to take me to your home, on our last night here?”

“I had hoped –” Castiel started, voice stilted. “It’s a lot to hope for,” he said, finally.

Dean moved closer to him and put a hand up to his cheek. “What did you hope?” he asked, voice pitched to convey how touched he was by Castiel’s gesture.

“I had hoped you might stay the night,” Castiel said, looking down. His cheeks were bright red, and his face warmed under Dean’s hand.

Dean used his grip to pull Cas’s face up, toward him. “Of course I will,” he said before leaning in for a chaste, tentative kiss.

Castiel kissed back enthusiastically – furiously. He took Dean by surprise, putting both hands around his back and neck desperately, pulling him in for a bruising kiss.

Dean met him as best as he could, moving his hands to Cas’s back and pulling him closer. He opened his lips, letting Cas lick into his mouth, desperately tasting him. It was clear that he was not used to this – he was all teeth and desire – but Dean was taken in by his enthusiasm. Dean tried to memorize his taste. He wanted to savor this. He wanted to –

“Hey,” Dean said, pulling apart a moment. Castiel began kissing his jaw. “Hey, we can slow it down a little. We have time.”

“Dean, you’re leaving tomorrow,” Cas reminded him mulishly, though Dean could see a bright blush returning to his cheeks. “Time is the one thing we _don’t_ have.”

Dean’s heart sank. The Jedi had made his choice. Not that he had held out hope that Castiel would change his mind, but he was still taken aback by the finality of his words.

Nothing for it but to make the best of a bad situation. He could mourn later. “We have the whole night,” Dean told him. He splayed his fingers over Castiel’s neck and moved his hand down his shoulder, letting himself take the time to explore the other man fully. “We can do this right.”

Cas nodded, then drew himself into Dean’s space again, this time kissing him long and deliberately, letting himself learn the curves of Dean’s mouth. This time he let Dean choose the deep, slow cadence of the kiss.

“I wanted this,” Castiel confessed, breaking apart. “I craved this the moment I first saw you. You don’t know how many times I had to tell myself I couldn’t have you.”

“What made you change your mind?” Dean asked.

“Balance,” Castiel told him. “The Force craves balance. After so many years alone, having you – it feels like balance.”

“So does that mean you’ll come with us?” Dean asked, knowing the answer. He couldn’t help pressing his luck.

Cas looked down. “I – I don’t know. Will you still want this, tonight, if it’s just for now?”

“Of course,” Dean said without thinking. “I’ll take whatever I can get from you, Cas. I think – I know I love you.”

Castiel looked down, lips pressed together. Before Dean could apologize for his brazenness, or ask what was wrong, the Jedi looked up again and kissed Dean fervently.

“Jedi aren’t supposed to love,” Castiel said softly. “I’ve wondered often, in the years since their death, if that wasn’t a mistake.”

“Was it?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. But I love you, nonetheless,” Castiel told him, brashly honest. “Even if I never see you again, I believe I will love you for the rest of my life.”

 _Me, too,_ Dean thought. He almost said the words aloud, but it seemed like too much. If he admitted just how deep his feelings ran, he’d never be able to leave Cas here.

Instead, he leaned in and kissed the Jedi again, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of his neck and pull him close. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean, letting strong fingers explore the planes of his back and shoulders. Dean shrugged off his vest so Cas would have better access, then tossed it toward the chair. He didn’t notice if it made it there or not.

“How about we move this to the bed?” he asked. He turned to angle them so his back was to the bed, then stepped back, pulling Castiel with him. Cas followed, humming his assent without actually breaking away from their kiss.

They broke apart just long enough to fall into bed together, but Cas immediately began kissing Dean’s shirt as soon as he found his balance. Dean chuckled at his enthusiasm and lifted his head up to give him better access, then moaned as Cas started nibbling at the tendons there. Clever fingers found their way under his shirt, stroking and scratching at his stomach and sides before pulling his shirt off altogether.

Cas sat back a moment, looking at Dean’s bare chest and abs. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “I wish I could keep you.”

“Me, too,” Dean told him. Before he could get too emotional, he reached out for the belt at Castiel’s waist and opened it. He sat up and pushed Cas’s tunic off his shoulders before starting to kiss the curve where his neck met his shoulder, making the older man groan.

“Here, let me help,” Cas said, pulling off his shirt.

Castiel was lean and toned, just as Dean had imagined. Dean spread one hand over his ribs, letting it run down his sides and feel the muscle there. He stared at him, taking in every inch, before looking back up at his face.

Bright blue eyes with huge, dark pupils enraptured him. “You’re like an angel,” he breathed.

Castiel chuckled, low and inviting. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been called that.”

“It’s true,” Dean told him. He dropped his hands to the drawstring on Castiel’s pants. “Can I?”

Cas dropped eye contact and looked down at the bed, uncertain. “Dean – I don’t know if I can –“

Dean immediately moved his hands back up to Castiel’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. If Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments, this was likely Castiel’s first time doing anything like this. It might have been his first kiss, even, Dean realized. “Whatever you want. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he assured him.

“It’s not that,” Castiel clarified hurriedly. “It’s just, if we do, I’m not going to be able to let you go.”

Dean hugged him closer and kissed the top of his head. He was right; if they went too far, Dean wasn’t going to be able to let him go either. Hell, he was already in too deep. “Whatever you need, angel,” he reassured him. “Just tell me what’s ok.”

“This. This is perfect,” Cas said.

Dean repositioned them so they were lying more comfortably on the bed, Castiel lying half on top of Dean. “This good?”

“If it’s ok,” Castiel replied. “I want – I want to kiss you, to be near you. But I can’t give you any more.”

“I know,” Dean said, words soft and heavy. “We can do this all night. Just this.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said. He stretched up and caught Dean’s lips again before he could respond.

 

…

 

Dean woke up early the next morning, still tangled up in Castiel. They had spent the night making out and tentatively exploring each other, giving each other as much as they could before they had to give each other up.

They had both slept in their pants, though somewhere along the way they had lost their boots and socks. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to sleep, but it was more than worth it to be with Castiel, even just once.

“I don’t want you to go,” Castiel said, his voice a low murmur near Dean’s chest. “But Sam will be worried about you.”

“I don’t want to go at all,” Dean confessed. “I wish we could hide here with you forever.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Cas told him. “Two being strong in the Force would bring Inquisitors upon us within the year. You’re better off as a moving target.”

“You would be, too,” Dean reminded him.

Cas pressed his head into Dean’s chest wordlessly.

“We’ll come back,” Dean promised. “When it’s safe.”

“I fear it may never be safe,” Castiel told him.

Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss into his hair. “Then we’ll come back when it isn’t safe. We’ll come back.”

As an answer, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s torso and held on tight. 

Dean didn’t know how he would leave this man in just a few hours. He hugged him back, blinking tears away as he did.

 

…

 

Three hours later, Dean was in the cockpit of the _Impala_ , somberly going through his preflight sequence.

“I can break something in the engine for you if you want,” Sam suggested from the copilot seat. “Something annoying, that’ll take a couple of weeks to fix.”

“Don’t you dare even think of touching her like that,” Dean snapped, probably a little too sharp. “You go around sabotaging a lady like this, she’s never gonna give you her best again.”

Sam shrugged. “You know, we could stay a few more days, even without.”

Dean shook his head and looked at his brother. “You really think I’ll ever leave, Sammy, if I give myself that option?” he asked. “It’s gotta be today, or it’s not happened.”

Sam reached out and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder comfortingly. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

Dean sighed and turned to his left, looking over the sensor array which told him the sublight engine status. Everything looked normal.

“Shit,” Sam said, voice suddenly urgent and agitated. “Bogey incoming from planetside – ah, vector two-two-six-three.”

“Damnit, Sam,” Dean swore, looking over the exterior sensor feeds. “Any idea what it may be?”

“Looks like a spacecraft. Small, well shielded – could be Imperial,” Sam told him, fingers already flying over the shield controls. “Aft and starboard shields at full power.”

“Get to the gun turret,” Dean told him. “I’ll get us in the air, where we’re not just a sitting duck.”

“Sure thing,” Sam said, already up and out of his seat.

“Can you –” Dean stopped.

“If it is Inquisitors, it’s gonna put us all in more danger if I try to contact Castiel,” Sam told him, regret in his voice. “I’m shielding myself now, but if you think it’s worth it, I could –“

“No,” Dean cut him off. “He’s better off if they don’t know he’s here at all. He’ll be able to hide if they keep their attention on us.”

Sam nodded, then turned and hurried out of the cockpit.

Dean turned back toward the controls, hurriedly flipping switches and pulling levers as he prepped his baby for flight. It only took a few minutes, but ever second seemed precious as he watched the bogie on his display fly closer. There was no doubt about it: it was taking its time, but it was headed straight for them.

Finally _,_ he pulled back the yoke and the _Impala_ lifted off the ground. He immediately pulled her to the right, drawing up the power on the forward shields as he did so. From this distance, he could just make out the small, slow-moving ship through the transpristeel cockpit windows. It was small and boxy, almost clumsy compared to the sleek curves of the _Impala_. The unpainted hull gleamed in the sun, making it hard to fully watch, but it moved shakily, as if the pilot was years out of practice.

“Cas?” he asked, mostly to himself. He clicked on the comms, “Sam, that’s no Inquisitor! Stand down!”

“What is it?” Sam asked, voice tinny over the comm.

“It’s Cas!” Dean said. He clicked “This is the Impala to unidentified craft. Do you read me?”

 _“Impala, this is J-1496, a diplomatic craft,_ ” Castiel’s familiar voice was the immediate response. _“Permission to dock?”_

“How about we meet you on the ground, Cas?” Dean said, unable to stop his smile.

“I’ll see you there,” Cas told him before cutting the connection.

Dean brought the _Impala_ down to an easy landing, then remotely opened the loading ramp before running out of the ship. He saw Sam along the way and pulled his brother with him by the arm.

By the time he got to the ground and cleared the shadow of the ship, Castiel’s ship was in range. Instead of landing, though, he flew over the _Impala_ and docked to her hull.

“What’s he doing?” Sam asked.

Dean didn’t answer, he just stared at Cas opened the hatch of his vessel and, in one graceful motion, jumped down the five meters to meet them on the ground.

He was wearing a darker grey pair of pants and tunic today, but otherwise he looked just like he always did.

“You’re here,” Dean said, the words sounding stupid even to him.

“I couldn’t let you leave,” Castiel told him. “I couldn’t let you leave me behind.”

“You’re coming with us?” Dean asked, transfixed on Castiel’s eyes.

Castiel smiled. “If you’ll have me. I heard there was a second mate position open, and that your first mate could use some extra tutelage.”

“He does need all the help he can get,” Dean agreed, feeling blindsided. Good blindsided. In the best way, actually.

“Really?” Sam said, somewhere to his right. Dean didn’t bother looking at him when he continued. “Welcome aboard, Cas. I’ll go clear out a room for you while you – do whatever you’re gonna do.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas said, eyes not leaving Dean’s.

“You’re really coming?” Dean asked.

“I can’t stay here. Not without you,” Cas told him.

Dean leaned in and kissed the Jedi. He was warm and pliant, and much less desperate than he had been last night. He kissed back confidently, and Dean could feel him smile against his lips.

“Here, let me give you the tour,” he said when they broke apart.

He led Cas into the Impala, closing the ramp behind them.

“Sammy? Don’t bother with the extra bunk,” he called out as soon as they were close enough to the living quarters to be heard. “There’s plenty of room in mine!”

Cas laughed and pressed against him as they walked. “That sounds perfect, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, wrapping an arm around him. “Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the art link again. Go tell TheDodSled how amazing it is!  
> https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/post/175515324148/and-heres-the-art-i-picked-this-one-up-as-a


End file.
